


lapsus linguae

by ghostdogs



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Other, but not much of it, just general tweaks here and there, more tags will be added with time, ratings will probably also change, what even are tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:21:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9422303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostdogs/pseuds/ghostdogs
Summary: It's Pokémon Sun and Moon, except the protagonist can't function on his own and needs to be babysat constantly by somebody else. With nobody else around to undertake the task and shepherd Cole around, Uncle Kukui has no choice but to put on his walking boots, 'cause he's got one hell of a journey ahead of him. Maybe this time he can get it right.Updates will probably be somewhat sporadic, but you can expect at least one new chapter a week, providing things don't go horrifically wrong irl (bc I'm optimistic ^^,)





	

From Kanto to Alola, his mother tries to keep the routine the same. Sends him to bed at ten regardless of what day it is, tells her Meowth to wake him up at half past six. When his cousin hit eleven, she set out on an adventure of her own, met her first Pokémon and battled her way through Kanto, but even when he was seven, his mother never thought he’d get that far. His life is a series of blocked-in errands and events, everything kept as similar and predictable as possible, lest his mind struggles to keep up with the ins and outs of a changing existence. It’s not overprotectiveness, nor is it an irrational way to force a boy to live his life — at least, not when that boy is him. 

Cole isn’t quite sure what makes him somewhat different when compared with his peers, but it’s certainly kept him isolated for a better part of eleven years. When he was younger, he explained conflicting thoughts about himself to his mother — not that he remembers any of it — and since then, life has been like this, structured and orderly, experienced from his mother’s side, hanging off her hand with no hope of ever really letting go. He’s smaller than average, slighter than he probably should be, and he can’t remember the last time he spoke a sentence consisting of more than maybe five monosyllabic words. 

For most, a trip to Alola would be something wonderful; for him, the ordeal was nothing short of traumatic. Having never been on a plane before, Cole was almost eager for it, but his mother’s insistence for him to curl beneath a blanket and read dampened most of the excitement, and by the time they arrived on Melemele, he was fast asleep, having been given some of that syrupy-sweet _stuff_ that knocked him out in under fifteen minutes. When Mitzy leaps onto his bed and kneads at him with those overgrown claws, therefore, it’s almost easy for him to believe that the entire journey has been some strange, hyperrealistic dream — but a quick look around his bedroom told him that everything was perfectly _wrong_ , and he was most definitely not in Kanto.

Tugging on his sleeve as though aware of his thoughts, Mitzy stares at him impassively, and Cole shakes the sleep from his body. He stumbles to what he assumes is the wardrobe, opens it to find it empty, follows Mitzy to a stack of boxes at the foot of his bed, reaches into the one that’s toppled, pulls out his clothes, changes into them. He follows a step-by-step procedure, methodically folding his pyjamas and fiddling with his socks for a good five minutes. Eventually, Mitzy starts gnawing on his hip, so he gives up and trails after her thoughtlessly.

His mother’s waiting in the main room of the house, cutting up fruit. He twists his fingers into the hem of his shirt and pads over to stand beside her, standing on his tiptoes and pinching a slice of apple.

“Morning, Iggy!” She’s all smiles, and Cole scratches his head, rocking back and munching on his apple slice reflectively. “You were out for a while, sleepyhead.” 

He _was_. A glance at the clock tells him it’s gone eight, and he _knows_ it hadn’t reached ten when he was forced to call it a night. Part of him wants to bring up the syrup, but he has a feeling it won’t go very far, so he just shrugs, splaying his hands as his mother passes him half a banana and nibbling at it.

“You excited to meet some Alolan Pokémon, then? I sure am!” He can’t remember the last time they went looking for Pokémon together. He’s lived a mostly Pokémon-free life, save for whenever his cousin came to visit and brought her team with her, though her pop-ins were so infrequent that he doubts they ever counted. “Come on, it’ll be fun! We’ll go sightseeing — there are four islands, did you know?”

Of course he did; he spent weeks reading up on Alola before they set off — not that she knows. Still, desperate to express his eagerness, Cole nods his head so quickly he thinks it might fall off, before following his mother to the table and crawling onto one of the chairs.

She sets the bowl of assorted fruit down and they eat mostly in silence — or, rather, Cole does, while his mother brings up potential activities for them. Considering his home-schooled existence, he doesn’t have to worry about being pushed into anywhere, so there’s plenty of time for them to look around together. For some reason, Cole isn’t as enthused as he hoped he’d be — part of him just wants to go on an adventure by himself, but he knows that probably isn’t possible. His mother’d love for him to have a life for his own, but she knows he couldn’t cope. 

Three bites into half a peach and the doorbell rings. It’s a new sound, not like their old one, and Cole jumps, almost falling out of his seat; reflexively, he grabs onto the edge of the table, hooking his legs over the side of the chair so he doesn’t hit the floor. His mother half-rises, but he recovers quickly, brushing off his thighs and wincing. _‘I’m okay,’_ he signs to her, and she settles back down, nodding her head and glancing towards the door.

“Why don’t you go and see who that is?”

Why doesn’t he? Probably because he’s _awful_ with this sort of thing, and she knows it. Five months ago, he burst into tears when the cashier at the store they were in tried to chat to him, and he’d known that cashier for _four years_. He shoots her a desperate look, but she’s unrelenting, so he obediently slides off the chair and wobbles towards the door.  

It opens before he can reaches it, and he halts, momentarily frozen in fear, but the main who strides in almost like he owns the place doesn’t seem like a threat at all. He’s tall, but he exudes a warm sort of aura, and Cole knows he doesn’t need to be so afraid this time. He recognises that face, after all. He saw it on the brochures.

“Professor!” His mom’s up in a flash, moving over in a half-hearted jog. Is she _gushing_? Cole tears his gaze away from the man and towards his mother, who sets a hand on his head and strokes her fingers through his blonde hair comfortingly. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”

But she _was_ expecting him. Cole opens his mouth and stares plaintively at his mother, but she only seems focused on the Professor, who laughs easily.

“Please, call me Kukui.” Professor Kukui. It sounds like the sun. “I came as soon as I heard you’d arrived.” Next, though, Kukui turns his attention to Cole, who freezes in place again. His mother’s grip on his shoulder tightens. It’s an anchor, but it doesn't force the funny feeling in his stomach to abate. “Nice to finally meet you, cousin! You’re Cole, right? Your mom told me loads about you.”

_Loads_? What does _loads_ even mean? As a rule, his mother never really talks about him all that much — she’s vague about anything that’s ever happened to him, and most people come to accept that he’s the sort of person they’ll never really know anything about. Even close family friends have gotten little out of either of them; for some reason, he finds it hard to believe that Kukui knows _loads_ , but the man seems confident enough about it that he lets it drop. He gulps, and his mother breezes right past it, talking over his thoughts and drowning them out for a few moments. He’s not paying much attention to their conversation, so most of it flies over his head, but he catches something about Kanto, the League and Kukui’s visit there. _That_ , it turns out, is the reason they’re here: the Alolan Pokémon his mother saw the Professor use against the Elite Four apparently charmed her into moving to the region.

“Oh, yeah, Alolan Pokémon are something special. Which reminds me — you’re eleven, right?” Cole nods. “Perfect age to start your Island Challenge, yeah?”

_Island Challenge_. It’s.. Alola’s response to the gyms of other regions, and if he’s not mistaken, it involves going out on your own with nothing but your Pokémon to rely on, battling your way through powerful trainers to claim victory at the end. It’s everything his mother’s tried to shield him from: the independence, the stress of not knowing when your next rest’ll be, the inability to retain any order. Logically, he knows he can’t do it, and deep down, the thought terrifies him, but he’d be lying if he didn’t say there was a strange allure, cloyingly sweet and almost impossible to ignore.

He wants it. He wants to go on that journey. Even so, his first instinct is to look to his mom, hands forming nigh-desperate shapes. _‘Didn’t you tell him?’_

“Yeah, she told me.” Cole jolts, stares at Kukui. The Professor stares back for a moment, silent, before starting to laugh. “What? C’mon, cousin, I know more than what move hits best in battle.”

Cole looks back at his mother, whose expression is one he’s never seen before. It’s not _scary_ , but the newness of it is certainly unnerving. “Iggy, go get your bag and hat.” 

“Oo,! I bet you’ve got a stylin’ hat that’ll match mine, yeah?”

His stomach starts doing flips again. Bag? Hat? They’re outside accessories, for outside only. If he’s got his bag and hat, then that means he’s leaving the house, but his mom hasn’t said anything either way. He’s not going to get his hopes up, besides, so he nods obediently, stepping away from her hand and heading to his room.

He’s moving on autopilot again, following a routine. One and a half steps into his room, seven too-long strides to the stack of boxes at the foot of his bed. He reaches for the top one, dips his hand in, tugs out his backpack and hat, puts them on, smooths down his t-shirt and tries to resist the urge to climb back into bed. If he strains, he can hear his mom and Kukui conversing, but he can’t make out what they’re saying. He doesn’t have to pick out every word to know that they’re talking about him, though. They’re speaking far too quietly for the topic to be anything else.

He presses his back against his door and waits for a few moments before opening it and returning to the main room. By this point, though, Kukui’s laughing again, and his mom looks far happier than she did before. 

“Iggy!” His mother tugs on the hem of his shirt, as though he hadn’t just spent a good minute sorting it out himself. She looks somewhat resigned, as though the conclusion she’s come to is one she’s not happy with. When Kukui cuts through the silence, though, he understands why.

“Great! You coming, cousin? Your mom said we’re allowed to go, so let’s get you to Iki Town, yeah?” Cole blinks dumbly, glancing between the Professor and his mother.

_‘I can go?’_

“Yeah! So let’s get this train moving, alright? Iki Town ain’t far, I swear.”

His mother’s gone silent, but she's smiling, so Cole supposes it’s okay. With one last look around the room, as if still somewhat unable to wrap his head around the concept of leaving it without his mom trailing behind him like some overprotective wraith, the boy sets off after Kukui.


End file.
